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Photograph by Kristine Potter for The New Yorker<\/p>\n
Nearly seven years ago, a shaggy singer with a shy smile introduced himself to America. \u201cMy name is Morgan Wallen, I\u2019m twenty years old, I\u2019m from Knoxville, Tennessee, and I\u2019m currently a landscaper,\u201d he said. He was standing on a stage in Los Angeles, competing for a spot on \u201cThe Voice,\u201d one of those reality shows in which established stars offer aspiring ones a chance to discover, first hand, just how heartbreaking the music industry can be. He was wearing a tie and a cardigan, with shoulder-length hair and most of a beard, and he explained that his promising baseball career had been ended, during his senior year in high school, by a debilitating injury to his ulnar collateral ligament. \u201cI\u2019m just a normal small-town kid, and I really don\u2019t have a clue how to get into music\u2014other than this,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
Wallen had never been on an airplane until he flew to L.A. for the taping, and he was unsure what kind of singer he wanted to be. He auditioned with a husky version of \u201cCollide,\u201d an earnest ballad from the two-thousands, which impressed Shakira, one of the celebrity judges. \u201cYour voice is unique\u2014it has this raspy tone, gritty sound to it,\u201d she said. \u201cIt\u2019s as manly as it gets.\u201d Even so, Wallen was eliminated a month later, and he returned to Tennessee with a slightly higher profile, a few industry connections, and a newfound awareness that he had what many Californians considered a thick Southern accent. \u201cThey\u2019d be, like, Where are you\u00a0from<\/em>?\u201d he recalls. He began thinking about that question, too.<\/p>\n These days, Wallen is a country-music star. His signature hit, \u201cWhiskey Glasses,\u201d is a perfectly constructed ode to a woman and a drink, lost and found, respectively: \u201cI\u2019m a need some whiskey glasses \/ \u2019Cause I don\u2019t wanna see the truth.\u201d According to\u00a0Billboard<\/em>, it was the top country-radio song of 2019. The music video depicts a fictionalized version of the makeover that Wallen underwent after \u201cThe Voice.\u201d He rips off the sleeves of a plaid flannel\u00a0shirt and shaves the sides of his long hair, transforming himself into an Everyman rock star: Bruce Springsteen meets Larry the Cable Guy, crowned with a glorious mullet. Through this process, Wallen became not just a singer but a character\u2014and, in a development that seems to have surprised many Nashville professionals, a sex symbol, beloved by an army of fans who appear to be disproportionately female and thirsty. An innocuous photograph of him leaning against a truck recently drew nearly half a million likes on Instagram, and almost ten thousand comments, including a prayerful declaration from a young mother in South Carolina: \u201cLord have mercy im bout to bust.\u201d<\/p>\n Wallen was alarmed when the live-music industry shut down in March, but 2020 has turned out to be the best year of his career. A new single helped him maintain his radio ubiquity, and his homebound fans made him a TikTok favorite, reacting to snippets of songs and recording their own versions. Some non-country listeners first heard about Wallen in the beginning of October, when \u201cSaturday Night Live\u201d announced that he would be the musical guest on an upcoming episode. Many more of them heard about him a few days later, when the show announced that Wallen\u2019s appearance had been cancelled because of video footage that was circulating, on TikTok (naturally), showing him at an Alabama bar the previous weekend, sharing kisses\u2014and, for all anyone knew, virions\u2014with at least two different women. Wallen acknowledged his mistake in a downbeat but charming two-minute video, apologizing for what he called \u201cshort-sighted\u201d behavior and signalling a temporary withdrawal from the spotlight. \u201cIt may be a second before you hear from me, for a while,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n He wasn\u2019t gone long. In early December, Wallen made it to \u201cS.N.L.,\u201d performing a couple of songs and starring in a sketch in which he re\u00ebnacted his fateful trip to that Alabama bar and begged forgiveness, singing, \u201cI thank you in advance \/ For giving this poor Southern boy a second Yankee chance.\u201d On Twitter, viewers debated his hair, his hygiene, and his general persona. \u201cGo to any Circle K in Indiana and you\u2019ll find yourself a Morgan Wallen,\u201d one user wrote. But it is not clear that Wallen would consider this an insult. On January 8th, he will release \u201cDangerous: The Double Album\u201d (Big Loud), which takes pains to reassure listeners that he is still a small-town guy, albeit one with a marvellously grainy voice and a knack for singing clever songs that are sometimes wistful, sometimes rowdy, and almost always boozy\u2014in this way, at least, he is a country traditionalist. One of the advantages of his sleeveless-shirt image is that it provides him occasional opportunities to upend listeners\u2019 expectations. \u201cAin\u2019t it strange the things you keep tucked in your heart,\u201d he murmurs, near the end of one song. And this unexpectedly philosophical flourish helps draw out the double meaning in the next line, which suggests personal growth while also recapitulating the excuse that he must have offered to \u201cSaturday Night Live\u201d executives, not long ago: \u201cI found myself in this bar.\u201d<\/p>\n Wallen grew up in Sneedville, Tennessee, an isolated town in a valley near the Virginia border, where his father was for a time the pastor of the local Southern Baptist church. Wallen took classical-violin lessons as a boy, but by the time his family settled in Knoxville, when he was in high school, he was listening to unpretentious radio-friendly rock bands like Breaking Benjamin and Nickelback. In Wallen\u2019s account, his embrace of country music was less a stylistic choice than a cultural imperative. \u201cIt may not have been the biggest influence in my life, as far as musically,\u201d he says. \u201cBut once I started writing songs, it just\u00a0sounded<\/em>\u00a0country. And I was, like, well, I guess I\u2019ll sing country music, because this is the life I know.\u201d<\/p>\n After \u201cThe Voice,\u201d Wallen moved to Nashville, where he found a like-minded producer: Joey Moi, known for his work with Nickelback, who had reinvented himself as a country hitmaker. Wallen was streamlining his singing style, excising bluesy flourishes to arrive at a mellow but muscular country-rock hybrid. \u201cHe had no idea how good he was,\u201d Moi recalls. Wallen\u2019s first album, \u201cIf I Know Me,\u201d from 2018, started with a likable lead single, \u201cThe Way I Talk,\u201d which stalled at No. 30 on the country-radio chart\u2014an ominous sign for a new singer. But then came a trio of No. 1 country hits, helped by a collaboration with another Moi client, the country duo Florida Georgia Line, and by that haircut, a staple of nineties country fashion that had come to seem stylishly retro. (One of the most famous mullets belonged to Billy Ray Cyrus, whose daughter Miley has lately contributed to their revival.) \u201cIf I Know Me\u201d reached No. 1 on the\u00a0Billboard<\/em>\u00a0country-album chart in August, more than two years after it was released. By then, Wallen had a new song heading up the country charts, \u201cMore Than My Hometown,\u201d an anthem of civic pride that is also, inevitably, a love story. He underenunciates, using his drawl to make the wordy verses sound casual: \u201cI ain\u2019t the runaway kind, I can\u2019t change that \/ My heart\u2019s stuck in these streets, like the train tracks\u00a0\/ City sky ain\u2019t the same black.\u201d And in the chorus he makes his choice, declaring, over classic-rock guitar, \u201cI guess I\u2019ll see you around \/ \u2019Cause I can\u2019t love you more than my hometown.\u201d<\/p>\n Wallen made his first album in a rush, squeezing recording sessions into a ten-day window between gigs. This year, like many people, he found himself with more free time, and that explains why \u201cDangerous\u201d contains thirty songs. For tradition\u2019s sake, the album is split into two \u201csides,\u201d the first of which is gentler and better, starting with a lovesick Tennessee boy in a \u201csunburnt Silverado,\u201d reminiscing about a beachside fling. Near the end comes \u201cMore Than My Hometown,\u201d as well as \u201c7 Summers,\u201d which fans first heard in April, when Wallen uploaded part of a demo to Instagram. \u201c7 Summers\u201d uses a pair of major-seventh chords to evoke the breezy sound of Fleetwood Mac and the bittersweet memory of an old flame. \u201cWe thought we were cutting this\u00a0deep<\/em>\u00a0cut,\u201d Moi says. But Wallen\u2019s fans grew obsessed, posting and reposting the snippet and begging him to release the final version. When he eventually did, a few months later, they pushed it to No.\u00a06 on the\u00a0Billboard<\/em>\u00a0Hot 100, thereby making reality-television history. \u201cThe Voice\u201d recently concluded its nineteenth season, and Wallen is the only contestant ever to score a Top 10 hit.<\/p>\n On the second half of \u201cDangerous,\u201d Wallen reminds listeners who he is and where he\u2019s from. This is something that mainstream country singers are obliged to do, especially the men, who are expected to inject new life into familiar lines about pickup trucks and women in cutoff jeans. Not all of Wallen\u2019s efforts in this regard are up to his usual standards, especially during a four-song stretch that includes \u201cSomethin\u2019 Country\u201d and \u201cCountry A$$ Shit\u201d and \u201cWhatcha Think of Country Now.\u201d (It would not be a surprise to learn that one or more of these compositions began with a songwriter losing a bet.) But more often he establishes his bona fides with a wink, as in \u201cBlame It on Me,\u201d a mock apology to a woman who \u201cgoes country\u201d for him, and has a hard time going back. Perhaps it is no coincidence that \u201cBlame It on Me,\u201d with its evocation of cultural authenticity, is actually a musical hybrid: a tidy pop song, partly propelled by a drum machine. Since the twenty-tens, country singers have grown increasingly adept at borrowing from contemporary hip-hop and R. & B., and Wallen sometimes sings with a rapper\u2019s sense of rhythm, even as he defines himself against urban sounds and urban life. \u201cBeer don\u2019t taste half as good in the city,\u201d he sings. \u201cBeer don\u2019t buzz with that hip-hop, cuz \/ But it damn sure does with a little Nitty Gritty.\u201d Although he is wrong about beer, he is surely right that many of his listeners like to think of him as one of their own\u2014loyal to a country community that harbors, even now, mixed feelings about the cultural dominance of hip-hop.<\/p>\n When Wallen found out that \u201cSaturday Night Live\u201d had rescinded its initial invitation, in October, he was sitting in a hotel room in midtown Manhattan, getting ready for rehearsal. As he processed the news, a member of his management team ordered him a steak dinner from a nearby restaurant, which he ate in his room before flying back to Tennessee. This month, when he returned to New York for his second chance, he sounded excited to be on the show, though he didn\u2019t pretend to be a regular viewer. \u201cI think this is a huge opportunity for me to hopefully give \u2019em a good first impression,\u201d he said, from a different room in the same Manhattan hotel. This time, he promised not to do anything to violate quarantine protocol. (TMZ cameras spotted him on his way to the set\u2014dressed, counterproductively, in a camouflage sweatshirt.) Although his appearance went smoothly, it also illustrated how wide a gap remains between the media mainstream and the country mainstream. During Wallen\u2019s sketch, he bantered cheerfully with Jason Bateman, the host, and Bowen Yang, a cast member, who played versions of Wallen from the future, sent back in time to stop him from partying away his big chance at stardom; both actors did notably inexact impressions of his accent. But during his final performance Wallen seemed defiant, as if he weren\u2019t sure that he liked being the butt of all these New York jokes. \u201cCall it clich\u00e9, but hey, just take it from me \/ It\u2019s still goin\u2019 down out in the country,\u201d he sneered, using hip-hop slang to convey a sentiment as old as country music itself.<\/p>\n In March, not long after the lockdown began, a woman named Priscilla Block appeared on TikTok, brandishing a glass of wine and singing an updated version of \u201cWhiskey Glasses.\u201d Instead of \u201cI just wanna sip \u2019til the pain wears off,\u201d Block sang, \u201cI just wanna sip until the quarantine\u2019s done.\u201d Both her voice and her timing were impressive, and her cover was played millions of times. Block was twenty-four, and had been living in Nashville, performing in local bars for tip money. With the bars closed, she dedicated herself to TikTok, often posting multiple videos in a day: she wielded a makeup brush like a microphone, recorded sing-alongs from her car, and posted pleas for Wallen to release more music. (She wants it known that she was a fan even before his makeover, not that she objected to it. \u201cThe mullet just made it better, honey,\u201d she says. \u201cI love the mullet.\u201d) Soon Block began sharing snippets of her own work: first a couple of playful songs, \u201cP.M.S.\u201d and \u201cThick Thighs,\u201d and then, this summer, \u201cJust About Over You,\u201d a well-crafted lament that propelled her out of the TikTok underground and into the country mainstream. She signed a major-label deal in September.<\/p>\n During this year\u2019s lockdown, TikTok has emerged as a new way for country singers to get noticed, much the way TV singing competitions did a couple of decades before. FM radio, not television or social media, still defines the country mainstream, but sometimes it scrambles to keep pace. \u201c7 Summers\u201d was, fittingly, a summer hit on the Hot 100, which includes data from streaming services. But it is only now starting to ascend the country airplay chart. \u201cDangerous,\u201d with its thirty songs, seems designed to keep radio stations busy well into the post-pandemic era.<\/p>\n The album includes plenty of party songs\u2014so many, in fact, that some of Wallen\u2019s fans may worry about him. (In May, Wallen was arrested, but not prosecuted, for public intoxication and disorderly conduct after an incident at a Nashville bar owned by a local celebrity who turned out to be sympathetic: Kid Rock.) Wallen has said that he wants to change his habits for the sake of his son, who was born in July. And tucked near the end of the album\u2019s first half is his version of \u201cCover Me Up,\u201d by the celebrated singer-songwriter Jason Isbell. The lyrics tell the story of a man recuperating from a bender, or a lifetime of benders, surrendering to love and, maybe, sobriety; Isbell\u2019s original is quavering and uncertain, as if he were still learning to believe what he sings. Wallen\u2019s interpretation, which has been streamed nearly a hundred million times on Spotify, is brawnier and perhaps more suggestive. \u201cGirl, leave your boots by the bed, we ain\u2019t leavin\u2019 this room,\u201d he sings, in a voice that justifies the enthusiasm of both Shakira and a certain mother in South Carolina. Wallen\u2019s record company hasn\u2019t decided whether to make it a single and try to persuade radio stations to play it. Isbell\u2019s songs are not typically heard on country radio\u2014but these days just about anything Wallen sings sounds like a potential country hit.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Wallen has become a singer, a character, and, to the surprise of many Nashville professionals, an online sex symbol. By Kelefa Sanneh Photograph by Kristine Potter for The New Yorker Nearly seven years ago, a shaggy singer with a shy … Continue reading